The morning had come swiftly and in fact many hours had passed since the sun rose.
Rain and Syme had received a brand new pair of modestly chosen clothes from the two nuns who had gone out earlier on sunrise.
Syme had on a white blouse and a matching dress that went just past her knees with a brown leather corset tying it all together.
She had let her golden blond hair fall loose past her shoulders this time–as now she perceived no sense to fight–swaying with the way she moved her head.
Rain on the other hand only had on a dark white tunic with a similar brown sash around his waist.
And despite the much more fashionable option given to Syme, his eyes which were colored like the lilacs outside, soul-piercing and vibrant made up for it and his lack of stature, now more innocent than predatory–like it was in his natural form.
Additionally, his hair, of which a white tuft had sprouted in his first metamorphosis, had now transformed into locks of dirty blond, only slightly different than his supposed mother.
But beside their style, something more important was going on in the nave as it was the 15th day of the month, the day of worship to Her Majesty above–Michaiah, god of Spring and Harvest.
The sound of organs echoed through the wooden hall as the gathering of townspeople rose from their seats and sang the songs of prayer.
"O lady of the budding vine,
Who turns the earth and makes it fine,
We offer thanks for sun and rain,
And pray these fields grow golden grain."
And on they sang from one hymn to homily for hours, praying that their fields would be ripe with crop and that peace continued to be upon them.
There were other gods, of course.
Every house, every family, group, the cultish and occult all worshipped a certain god. When prayer and offerings were presented, by the grace and or caprice of said god, they would answer their prayers.
These farming people, as they logically should, worship Michaiah, the god of spring and harvest.
None of these people would likely ever make it out of this town. Every day is simply work, toiling between the harsh winters and fruitful springs, their reverence to god and her reciprocation of blessings.
It was a simple life, Sisyphean almost, rolling the boulder up the hill akin to working the fields; falling down through the winter and returning to the bottom so they may begin again.
Syme looked out towards the smiling farmhands, wondering if her life would have been happier if she had simply stayed as a countryside girl.
Would she have watched her comrades die in the dark? Would she be enslaved under the grasp of this playful tyrant?
But how would she go then? She didn't know.
Rain reached for her hand and her hand moved at tugging of her strings like a marionette.
"We should head out now," Rain smiled.
She hated this feeling the most. Knowing that she had no control over her own body; that he could effectively read her thoughts; that her most inner-self was laid bare for him to see and mold however he felt.
They sat down and ate breakfast with the old priest. It was a simple meal of bread, milk and vegetable soup–hearty, simple.
But now, it was time for them to go.
"We'll be going grandpa" Rain called to the old priest as they walked out the door of the church.
"Oh, so soon?" he responded, tending to his garden as always.
"Mhm" Rain nodded.
"To Gull I assume?"
This time Syme responded, "Yes, we must go still. Thank you for all the hospitality, really, its too much."
"Mm, so it shall be then," said the old priest, "I wish you godspeed and before you go…"
He took out a silver pendant with a young dandelion engraved upon it and pressed it into Syme's palms.
"Young miss, you have a very pure and innocent soul. I have a friend in the light goddesses church at Gull. If you ever need help, show this to him and he may offer some help; and maybe you may find your calling there too."
"Thank you, sir, for your consideration and compliments" she replied, slightly uneasy at the mention of her soul.
"We will be on our way now."
"Godspeed and safe travel," the priest said as he watched the two continue on their way.
…
"I guess I really was right…" rain muttered as he walked.
"Hmm?" Syme questioned.
"Your soul is special…"
"...In what way?" she asked.
"Well, it's really bright and I get really hungry when I look at it," he remarked with indifference, slightly scaring Syme.
"Don't worry, I won't eat you," he responded with a winsome grin.
His tone shifted as always.
"And…?" She wanted to know more…
"And it's mine now," he smiled back teasingly but also reminding her of her place.
"Other souls are grey. They still look really tasty but yours was especially so. You know, if I wasn't poisoned and there wasn't a creature down there in the cave, I would have probably eaten you limb by limb until your mind broke; then I would easily extract your soul and eat it too."
He had said it with the utmost apathy to her cause that contrasted with her paling face.
He had jumped onto her back now and was whispering right against her ear.
"But you don't have to worry. I won't eat you for now. So, make yourself useful, okay?"
She shuddered at the thought.
They had planned to take the carriage at the edge of town, but realized that they lacked the funds to both make the journey to Gull and pay its much higher entrance fee.
"What do we do then…" Syme contemplated.
"Let's go get some money."
"From?"
"Well, I haven't had a real meal for a while now…" Rain replied, walking towards a house near the border of Caprice.
"But we had breakfast just a few hours ago… You don't mean…" Syme thought, horrified.
"Devil's don't eat vegetables silly," His smile was almost reaching his nose as he danced his way towards the house of his next victim.
"Wait! Wait! W…" She couldn't speak.
A good servant follows orders, Syme.
He ordered mentally, constricting his grasp around his soul which suffocated her slightly.
Breathing heavy and sweating, she staggered in his steps.
She was moving now against her will. It was the command of her master and she would be watching as whoever unfortunate enough happened to be caught in his fangs.